


World Walker:The Beginning

by MothEmperor7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Neville Longbottom, F/M, Hedonism, Powerful Neville Longbottom, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2020-10-24 05:48:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20700938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothEmperor7/pseuds/MothEmperor7
Summary: You know those stories where a random guy from our world dies and is reincarnated into the world of Harry Potter and dominates the world one way or another. Well, that happened to me. But my ambition isn't to become the next Dark Lord or even to be known as the next coming of Merlin. No, I see this event for the opportunity it really is. I will become the World Walker. SI-OC.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its characters. Everything belongs to J.K.Rowling.  
So guys, this is my first attempt at writing anything not for just myself. I would really appreciate honest, constructive feedback. Also, if I could get someone to be my beta reader, that would be awesome. Hope you guys enjoy. The future chapters will be longer as I am just testing the waters with this one.

A/N: So, the second chapter is out. There is no set schedule for now. Hope you like the chapter.  
Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, in case you forgot.

'Man, this is quickly becoming a theme.'

That was my first thought as I woke up again with a head-splitting headache. I woke up in a different setting this time around though.

'Well, at least that's new.'

I looked around and realised that I was in a hospital bed. ' St. Mungo's!', I realised, 'Apparently, I am in the Harry Potter world now.’ And wasn't that something to get my head around. 

No one was around and that left me alone with my thoughts. The first and foremost thing that went through my mind was, 'How the fuck did this happen? What convoluted entities are at play here man? I mean, why me?'. But after pondering on these thoughts for some time, I realised something. It didn't fucking matter. Because this wasn't a curse or a punishment. I saw this as the opportunity it really was. This was a gift and an escape. An escape from the mediocrity that was my previous life. Because if this wasn't some booze-induced stupor, then I had landed in a world of magic. A world where werewolves and vampires existed. A world where laws of physics were thwarted with a simple wave of a stick of wood. Where titans roamed the world, donning the personas of dark lords bent on world domination or grandfatherly headmasters looking out for the supposed ‘Greater Good’.

And if there was something that was as true as the magic in this world, it was that mediocrity was a sin. Mediocrity got you nowhere in this world. Mediocrity meant you were a pawn in this world, acting to the whims of the people who had earned the right to lead this world in whatever way they deemed fair.

'Not me’, I fiercely thought, 'I am not going to be some thrice damned idiot following the lead of other people like some half-minded sheep. I wasn't going to be some pawn, just waiting to be sacrificed because of some misguided sense of superiority of some megalomaniac or for another's greater good.'

The truth of the matter is I am not a soldier. Hell, I am not even a general. No, what I aspire to be is the guy who is strong enough to survive on the battlefield if someone does fight me but is willing to be a casual observer of the great game and not be a part of it at all. I'd rather strip the dead bodies on the battlefield off their valuables than be the guy who strikes a killing blow on anyone. Not evil but definitely not heroic. You know the guy who couldn't give two fucks about the fate of the world and has a faulty moral compass. I am that guy.

My train of thought was interrupted when the curtains around my bed were torn with all the finesse of a fish out of water. Agatha Longbottom,’ my grandmother’, my brain helpfully supplied, rushed in with two other men. One of whom was 'Algie', the genius who dropped Neville out of the balcony. I couldn't figure out if he was just an overeager helpful idiot or a sly killer-to-be. Looking at his guilty and concerned face right now, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, this time. I figured that he was genuinely sorry. Or an Oscar-worthy actor. Someone to keep an eye on, definitely.

That would make the second guy the doctor. Or the healer, as they call them here. "How are you feeling, Neville?”, the healer asked.

That made me really absorb the fact that I had just replaced Neville Longbottom. The pudgy-faced, easily intimidated, moderately talented guy with a heart of gold and balls of steel. And all that had changed now. Because the qualities that defined Neville, the courage and the loyalty, I was severely lacking in. I was not Neville Longbottom and would never be. I didn't have the same ambitions, the same motivations or the same drive. I was just a snarky guy who didn't take life seriously and never thought about consequences of my actions.

My inner monologue was stopped when the healer repeated his question. And I was struck at a crossroads. 'How do I play this? Do I portray the meek, lacking-in-confidence Neville or myself, the guy who replaced him?' And I decided that acting like real Neville wasn't worth it. This was the start of something new for me and I'd rather not begin it with a persona that wasn't my own. And the 'accident' gave me a plausible reason for a change in personality.

"I feel fine, sir. I just have trouble remembering stuff, like some parts of my memory were erased from my brain."

"Hmm, that's to be expected. Your grandmother told me that you didn't recognise her or even remembered your name. Is that still true?”, the healer further enquired.

"No, sir, I remember her and I also recall my name now. It’s the mundane things of the past that I am having trouble remembering."

"Hmm, that's good. I expect things to improve further. I will leave you alone with your relatives while I go prescribe you some potions. You can leave if nothing feels wrong anymore." He nodded towards my grandmother and left us alone.

Silence permeated in the air for a little while and it was getting a little awkward for my taste. 

"Eventful day, huh?", was all I could say in an attempt to initiate a conversation. My lame attempt at dissipating the awkwardness worked somewhat as my grandmother gave a hesistant chuckle. 

"How are you feeling, Neville?"

"Better, grandma."

"Good, Good. I am glad. Congratulations on your display of magic, by the way. I wish we could have celebrated the occasion somewhere else, though.", she said with a dry chuckle. I think she was returning to the stern grandmother avatar she was famous for in the books, now that she knew I was going to be okay.

"Yeah, me too, Grandma. Look on the bright side though. At least, now we know that I'm not a squib.".

My grandma looked surprised at my attempt at sarcasm. Seems like Neville wasn't much for self-depreciating humour. 'Get used to it Grandma', I thought, as she was going to be even more surprised with the various 'new' quirks her grandson would be displaying over the coming days. I kept that thought to my head as she gave me a strange look before leaving alone, saying she needed to see the healer, with Uncle Algie following her.

I was glad to be left alone with my thoughts once again. Believe it or not, finding out you were transported to the world of Harry Potter took some getting used to. Especially my plan of action for the near future, seeing as I would be starting Hogwarts soon. And wasn't that something to look forward to.

I was reborn as Neville Longbottom, son of Alice and Frank Longbottom, former aurors and heroes of the last wizarding war. Being a Longbottom was sure to be an advantage. If everything I had ever read about Harry Potter was to be believed, the Longbottoms were part of a group called 'The Sacred Twenty-eight’, a group that were still "truly pure-blood" by the 1930s. Whether I liked it or not, being pureblood opened some doors in the Wizarding World that were exclusive to, well, the purebloods. I had to use every possible advantage I could get my hands on, if I was to not only survive but also thrive in this world. I am sure the Longbottoms were also fairly well off, so I wouldn't have to worry much about resources in the near future, at least in my schooling days.

I had to become great. Good wasn't an option. The biggest truth about this world which I could garner from the books and movies was this: 'Might is right’. No matter how much idealists like Albus Dumbledore would like us to believe the opposite was true. Even his own words only carried weight because he was The Great Albus Dumbledore. The defeater of Grindelwald. The only one who Lord Voldemort feared. And although it was the rallying cry of the death eater, the truth was 'Magic is Might'. I didn't take it to mean that muggles were inferior to wizards. Not after having lived through the twenty-first century and seeing what our kind was capable of. No, for me the words simply meant that whoever had greatest affinity, greatest control and greatest knowledge of magic was the greatest wizard of all. True mastery over magic was impossible. Because magic was limitless. Or at least, that’s what I believe. But what is possible is surpassing most wizards in the mastery of magic. And I would leave no stone unturned to do that. Not when I had been given this chance. Along with the knowledge of what was to come. Not that I wanted any part in the coming conflict. To avoid an inevitable war, you needed to know when and where the war was being fought. And I knew that and much more. I had knowledge that, in the right hands, could end the war before it began. For both sides. But I wouldn't give just gift knowledge to anyone and just reveal my trump card. For one, because the knowledge of how I knew these things from the future would earn me a one-way trip to some lab in the Department of Mysteries, that if anyone believed me. And secondly, because my thought process had led to an idea. An idea, which like a seed, had been planted into my brain. An idea which wouldn't let go off me. An idea which, although I didn't know that at the time, would become an obsession, an inferno that would take over my life like nothing else before, rivalling Voldemort’s obsession with immortality or Grindelwald and Dumbledore’s obsession with the deathly hallows. But for me to explore that idea, I needed the war. I needed things to play out almost exactly like it did in the books. I was prepared for the eventual butterfly effect my presence would cause. In fact, I would actively work to change plot points where it suited me. But as long as the general outline of the plot remained the same, I would have an advantage. An advantage I wasn't willing to let go of. An advantage that was all mine. An equaliser. To even the odds. I could never hope to surpass the experience of Dumbledore or Voldemort or the various other monsters in human skin roaming this world. But the knowledge of the future I held in my head could even out the odds somewhat. Not enough to hold my own against them. But enough to avoid coming into conflict with both sides at once. Was it selfish? Sure. But the longer someone gets to know me, the more they realise I don’t care about much when it comes to my own self-interest. 

The idea I had was rooted in a realisation. A realisation that the multiverse was real. I was the living proof of that. The books I had religiously consumed in my childhood were not just a figment of imagination of an author. This was real. As real as the world I came from. Which meant that other worlds were real too. All the fiction I had consumed in my world in various media, all had to be real. Which meant an everlasting adventure. A life full of exploration, not of countries or cities, but of different worlds itself. And I wanted to be that explorer. I wanted to experience what all the different worlds had to offer. I wanted to traverse worlds. And although the thought might seem farfetched and outside the realms of possibility, I would see this vision of mine realised. 

'Well that's good and all. But first I need to get out of this place so that I can begin work on my plans of multiverse travel. Man, think of all the places, all the wealth, all the women.......hehehehe!!!!Man, this is the greatest occupation anyone could ever dream of!!!And it needs an appropriate fancy name. What could it be? Multiverse Traveller.......nah too plain. Wormhole???.... nah, sounds wrong. World Walker? …. hmm, that sounds awesome. Neville Longbottom, World Walker. At your service, ladies. Hahaha. Man, this is the dream!!!'

I am sure that I had a full-blown stupid grin on my face because I saw that Uncle Algie had entered the room during my inner diatribe and was looking at me like I had lost some marbles during the time he was away.

"Oh, hey Uncle Algie! Come to drop me on my head again? Cause if that's the case, I would like to ask you to hold it off for today! I don't think my head can survive another one in one day!”, I quipped, unable to keep my resentment out of my voice.

His face immediately morphed into one of guilt. He was actively trying to looking at anything but me. He let the silence hover for a little while before he couldn’t bear it any longer and started rambling about how he was sorry for his actions and how he was just trying just to help and how he no nefarious intentions.

'Fat load of good it did your grand-nephew, dickhead. He's dead. You just don't know about it.'

I probably couldn't keep my thoughts all to myself and it must have shown because he shut up after taking a look at my face. After a little while, I sighed and just wanted to get this over with.

"Hey, I understand. I know you did what you did thinking that it was the best course of action. But I can't forgive you. Even though it helped me discover my magic. Because your actions go against whatever my parents stood for. Although it might not have been your intention, your actions paint the picture of someone who would rather have a dead grand-nephew than a squib grand-nephew. That's the actions of some blood-supremacist death eater. So, you can understand if I resent you for your actions."

"Well said, grandson.”, my grandmother said, entering the room with all the swagger of a mafioso, "I think we can all learn something from this event. Can’t we, Algie?"

"Yes, Augusta." That was all my uncle could say, looking like a kicked puppy.

"Very well. We will be going now, Neville, so that we can complete the formalities to get you out of here.", grandmother said before leaving the room, leaving me alone with Uncle Algie once again.

"Well, I'll be going too, Neville. And, well, congratulations are in order. It was your first display of magic today. Even if it was marred by the less than fortunate circumstances and my less-than-ideal actions. I hope you don't mind if I get you a gift, even if I would understand if you don’t want to accept anything from me."

"No, uncle I wouldn't mind. Thank you, uncle.", I said with a grin, in an attempt to make things less awkward between us next time.

My uncle returned my grin with one of his own before proceeding to walk out of my room.

'Oh, wait. That reminds me.'

Just as my uncle was leaving the room, I hollered at him, "But for Merlin's sake, no toads for my gift, Uncle Algie!"

My uncle turned around with an astonished look on his face before leaving the room, all the while shaking his head in amusement.

A/N: So, how was it? Would appreciate some reviews with your feedback. I didn’t know if ‘The Sacred twenty-eight’ was real or just a product of fanfiction. But the wiki said it was real and present on Pottermore. So, I went with it. See you next time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, the second chapter is out. There is no set schedule for now. Hope you like the chapter.  
Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, in case you forgot.

'Man, this is quickly becoming a theme.'  
That was my first thought as I woke up again with a head-splitting headache. I woke up in a different setting this time around though.  
'Well, at least that's new.'  
I looked around and realised that I was in a hospital bed. ' St. Mungo's!', I realised, 'Apparently, I am in the Harry Potter world now.’ And wasn't that something to get my head around.   
No one was around and that left me alone with my thoughts. The first and foremost thing that went through my mind was, 'How the fuck did this happen? What convoluted entities are at play here man? I mean, why me?'. But after pondering on these thoughts for some time, I realised something. It didn't fucking matter. Because this wasn't a curse or a punishment. I saw this as the opportunity it really was. This was a gift and an escape. An escape from the mediocrity that was my previous life. Because if this wasn't some booze-induced stupor, then I had landed in a world of magic. A world where werewolves and vampires existed. A world where laws of physics were thwarted with a simple wave of a stick of wood. Where titans roamed the world, donning the personas of dark lords bent on world domination or grandfatherly headmasters looking out for the supposed ‘Greater Good’.  
And if there was something that was as true as the magic in this world, it was that mediocrity was a sin. Mediocrity got you nowhere in this world. Mediocrity meant you were a pawn in this world, acting to the whims of the people who had earned the right to lead this world in whatever way they deemed fair.  
'Not me’, I fiercely thought, 'I am not going to be some thrice damned idiot following the lead of other people like some half-minded sheep. I wasn't going to be some pawn, just waiting to be sacrificed because of some misguided sense of superiority of some megalomaniac or for another's greater good.'  
The truth of the matter is I am not a soldier. Hell, I am not even a general. No, what I aspire to be is the guy who is strong enough to survive on the battlefield if someone does fight me but is willing to be a casual observer of the great game and not be a part of it at all. I'd rather strip the dead bodies on the battlefield off their valuables than be the guy who strikes a killing blow on anyone. Not evil but definitely not heroic. You know the guy who couldn't give two fucks about the fate of the world and has a faulty moral compass. I am that guy.  
My train of thought was interrupted when the curtains around my bed were torn with all the finesse of a fish out of water. Agatha Longbottom,’ my grandmother’, my brain helpfully supplied, rushed in with two other men. One of whom was 'Algie', the genius who dropped Neville out of the balcony. I couldn't figure out if he was just an overeager helpful idiot or a sly killer-to-be. Looking at his guilty and concerned face right now, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, this time. I figured that he was genuinely sorry. Or an Oscar-worthy actor. Someone to keep an eye on, definitely.  
That would make the second guy the doctor. Or the healer, as they call them here. "How are you feeling, Neville?”, the healer asked.  
That made me really absorb the fact that I had just replaced Neville Longbottom. The pudgy-faced, easily intimidated, moderately talented guy with a heart of gold and balls of steel. And all that had changed now. Because the qualities that defined Neville, the courage and the loyalty, I was severely lacking in. I was not Neville Longbottom and would never be. I didn't have the same ambitions, the same motivations or the same drive. I was just a snarky guy who didn't take life seriously and never thought about consequences of my actions.  
My inner monologue was stopped when the healer repeated his question. And I was struck at a crossroads. 'How do I play this? Do I portray the meek, lacking-in-confidence Neville or myself, the guy who replaced him?' And I decided that acting like real Neville wasn't worth it. This was the start of something new for me and I'd rather not begin it with a persona that wasn't my own. And the 'accident' gave me a plausible reason for a change in personality.  
"I feel fine, sir. I just have trouble remembering stuff, like some parts of my memory were erased from my brain."  
"Hmm, that's to be expected. Your grandmother told me that you didn't recognise her or even remembered your name. Is that still true?”, the healer further enquired.  
"No, sir, I remember her and I also recall my name now. It’s the mundane things of the past that I am having trouble remembering."  
"Hmm, that's good. I expect things to improve further. I will leave you alone with your relatives while I go prescribe you some potions. You can leave if nothing feels wrong anymore." He nodded towards my grandmother and left us alone.  
Silence permeated in the air for a little while and it was getting a little awkward for my taste.   
"Eventful day, huh?", was all I could say in an attempt to initiate a conversation. My lame attempt at dissipating the awkwardness worked somewhat as my grandmother gave a hesistant chuckle.   
"How are you feeling, Neville?"  
"Better, grandma."  
"Good, Good. I am glad. Congratulations on your display of magic, by the way. I wish we could have celebrated the occasion somewhere else, though.", she said with a dry chuckle. I think she was returning to the stern grandmother avatar she was famous for in the books, now that she knew I was going to be okay.  
"Yeah, me too, Grandma. Look on the bright side though. At least, now we know that I'm not a squib.".  
My grandma looked surprised at my attempt at sarcasm. Seems like Neville wasn't much for self-depreciating humour. 'Get used to it Grandma', I thought, as she was going to be even more surprised with the various 'new' quirks her grandson would be displaying over the coming days. I kept that thought to my head as she gave me a strange look before leaving alone, saying she needed to see the healer, with Uncle Algie following her.  
I was glad to be left alone with my thoughts once again. Believe it or not, finding out you were transported to the world of Harry Potter took some getting used to. Especially my plan of action for the near future, seeing as I would be starting Hogwarts soon. And wasn't that something to look forward to.  
I was reborn as Neville Longbottom, son of Alice and Frank Longbottom, former aurors and heroes of the last wizarding war. Being a Longbottom was sure to be an advantage. If everything I had ever read about Harry Potter was to be believed, the Longbottoms were part of a group called 'The Sacred Twenty-eight’, a group that were still "truly pure-blood" by the 1930s. Whether I liked it or not, being pureblood opened some doors in the Wizarding World that were exclusive to, well, the purebloods. I had to use every possible advantage I could get my hands on, if I was to not only survive but also thrive in this world. I am sure the Longbottoms were also fairly well off, so I wouldn't have to worry much about resources in the near future, at least in my schooling days.  
I had to become great. Good wasn't an option. The biggest truth about this world which I could garner from the books and movies was this: 'Might is right’. No matter how much idealists like Albus Dumbledore would like us to believe the opposite was true. Even his own words only carried weight because he was The Great Albus Dumbledore. The defeater of Grindelwald. The only one who Lord Voldemort feared. And although it was the rallying cry of the death eater, the truth was 'Magic is Might'. I didn't take it to mean that muggles were inferior to wizards. Not after having lived through the twenty-first century and seeing what our kind was capable of. No, for me the words simply meant that whoever had greatest affinity, greatest control and greatest knowledge of magic was the greatest wizard of all. True mastery over magic was impossible. Because magic was limitless. Or at least, that’s what I believe. But what is possible is surpassing most wizards in the mastery of magic. And I would leave no stone unturned to do that. Not when I had been given this chance. Along with the knowledge of what was to come. Not that I wanted any part in the coming conflict. To avoid an inevitable war, you needed to know when and where the war was being fought. And I knew that and much more. I had knowledge that, in the right hands, could end the war before it began. For both sides. But I wouldn't give just gift knowledge to anyone and just reveal my trump card. For one, because the knowledge of how I knew these things from the future would earn me a one-way trip to some lab in the Department of Mysteries, that if anyone believed me. And secondly, because my thought process had led to an idea. An idea, which like a seed, had been planted into my brain. An idea which wouldn't let go off me. An idea which, although I didn't know that at the time, would become an obsession, an inferno that would take over my life like nothing else before, rivalling Voldemort’s obsession with immortality or Grindelwald and Dumbledore’s obsession with the deathly hallows. But for me to explore that idea, I needed the war. I needed things to play out almost exactly like it did in the books. I was prepared for the eventual butterfly effect my presence would cause. In fact, I would actively work to change plot points where it suited me. But as long as the general outline of the plot remained the same, I would have an advantage. An advantage I wasn't willing to let go of. An advantage that was all mine. An equaliser. To even the odds. I could never hope to surpass the experience of Dumbledore or Voldemort or the various other monsters in human skin roaming this world. But the knowledge of the future I held in my head could even out the odds somewhat. Not enough to hold my own against them. But enough to avoid coming into conflict with both sides at once. Was it selfish? Sure. But the longer someone gets to know me, the more they realise I don’t care about much when it comes to my own self-interest.   
The idea I had was rooted in a realisation. A realisation that the multiverse was real. I was the living proof of that. The books I had religiously consumed in my childhood were not just a figment of imagination of an author. This was real. As real as the world I came from. Which meant that other worlds were real too. All the fiction I had consumed in my world in various media, all had to be real. Which meant an everlasting adventure. A life full of exploration, not of countries or cities, but of different worlds itself. And I wanted to be that explorer. I wanted to experience what all the different worlds had to offer. I wanted to traverse worlds. And although the thought might seem farfetched and outside the realms of possibility, I would see this vision of mine realised.   
'Well that's good and all. But first I need to get out of this place so that I can begin work on my plans of multiverse travel. Man, think of all the places, all the wealth, all the women.......hehehehe!!!!Man, this is the greatest occupation anyone could ever dream of!!!And it needs an appropriate fancy name. What could it be? Multiverse Traveller.......nah too plain. Wormhole???.... nah, sounds wrong. World Walker? …. hmm, that sounds awesome. Neville Longbottom, World Walker. At your service, ladies. Hahaha. Man, this is the dream!!!'  
I am sure that I had a full-blown stupid grin on my face because I saw that Uncle Algie had entered the room during my inner diatribe and was looking at me like I had lost some marbles during the time he was away.  
"Oh, hey Uncle Algie! Come to drop me on my head again? Cause if that's the case, I would like to ask you to hold it off for today! I don't think my head can survive another one in one day!”, I quipped, unable to keep my resentment out of my voice.  
His face immediately morphed into one of guilt. He was actively trying to looking at anything but me. He let the silence hover for a little while before he couldn’t bear it any longer and started rambling about how he was sorry for his actions and how he was just trying just to help and how he no nefarious intentions.  
'Fat load of good it did your grand-nephew, dickhead. He's dead. You just don't know about it.'  
I probably couldn't keep my thoughts all to myself and it must have shown because he shut up after taking a look at my face. After a little while, I sighed and just wanted to get this over with.  
"Hey, I understand. I know you did what you did thinking that it was the best course of action. But I can't forgive you. Even though it helped me discover my magic. Because your actions go against whatever my parents stood for. Although it might not have been your intention, your actions paint the picture of someone who would rather have a dead grand-nephew than a squib grand-nephew. That's the actions of some blood-supremacist death eater. So, you can understand if I resent you for your actions."  
"Well said, grandson.”, my grandmother said, entering the room with all the swagger of a mafioso, "I think we can all learn something from this event. Can’t we, Algie?"  
"Yes, Augusta." That was all my uncle could say, looking like a kicked puppy.  
"Very well. We will be going now, Neville, so that we can complete the formalities to get you out of here.", grandmother said before leaving the room, leaving me alone with Uncle Algie once again.  
"Well, I'll be going too, Neville. And, well, congratulations are in order. It was your first display of magic today. Even if it was marred by the less than fortunate circumstances and my less-than-ideal actions. I hope you don't mind if I get you a gift, even if I would understand if you don’t want to accept anything from me."  
"No, uncle I wouldn't mind. Thank you, uncle.", I said with a grin, in an attempt to make things less awkward between us next time.  
My uncle returned my grin with one of his own before proceeding to walk out of my room.  
'Oh, wait. That reminds me.'  
Just as my uncle was leaving the room, I hollered at him, "But for Merlin's sake, no toads for my gift, Uncle Algie!"  
My uncle turned around with an astonished look on his face before leaving the room, all the while shaking his head in amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, how was it? Would appreciate some reviews with your feedback. I didn’t know if ‘The Sacred twenty-eight’ was real or just a product of fanfiction. But the wiki said it was real and present on Pottermore. So, I went with it. See you next time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/ N: Harry Potter and its characters don’t belong to me.

Diagon Alley!  
The quite literal entryway into the magical world of Harry Potter. It amazed you and overwhelmed all at once. All that was wonderful with magic was perfectly encapsulated within Diagon Alley. All that was terrible with this world was also perfectly reflected in bits and pieces around the alley if you knew what you were looking at. The two sides of the same coin and all that, I supposed as I looked around the alley, working hard to commit everything to memory.  
I was interrupted from my musings by my recently acquired grandmother’s stern words.  
“We must make a trip to Gringotts before we can allow you to be unleashed upon these stores, Neville.” Looking at her, I saw that she was looking at me with an amused smile, seemingly having noticed me trying to look at everything at once. I just bowed my head in embarrassment, having no desire for my grandmother to see my blush.  
Gringotts was as old as it was odd, and so were the creatures that inhabited it. It was grand, a pretty accurate representation of all the wealth and artifacts it stored. As I walked through the hall behind my grandmother, I couldn’t help but gawk at the goblins which seemed to be scattered throughout the bank, uncaring of the wizards around them. I was quite satisfied to see that I wasn’t alone in my reaction, as the people who were quite clearly muggles couldn’t help but stare at the goblins helping them with their jaws hanging.  
They were led to a counter without having to wait in a queue. ‘Perks of being an old family’, Neville couldn’t help but think as the goblin manning the counter finally gave them his attention.  
“And what is it that you need today?”. The goblin’s tone was gruff, devoid of any warmth, leaving no doubt that this wasn’t someone you wanted to cross on his best day.  
“My grandson, Heir Longbottom over here, has turned eleven today. As such, it is time that he visits the vault that is rightfully his and gains a measure of his powers and responsibilities.”  
My grandmother’s reply left the goblin utterly disinterested as he summoned he spoke up with a huff, “Breakjaw!”  
His words were followed by the arrival of another goblin, this one younger to the one manning the counter. His, too, displayed no signs of courtesy or interest in our affairs as he just uttered out two words, “Follow me!” once he was instructed to take us to our family vault by his superior.  
Ah, the roller coaster ride to the depths of Gringotts! What can I say about it?! One of the worst experiences of my relatively new and short magical life. The fact puzzled me though. I had never had such a difficult time back in my previous world. In fact, I looked forward to anything that could get adrenaline soaring through my veins.  
The only conclusion I could draw was that I had inherited the motion sickness from Neville himself, the real one whom I had replaced. And didn’t that open up a new can of worms? I wondered what else was a mere characteristic of my body and what had I brought with myself from my old life. I had of course known that the soul was very real in this real, even capable of being split, courtesy of Lord Voldemort, but this…. this put things into a new perspective.  
I tried to look around as much as I could while on the ride of death, picking up things and bits of magic here and there. The tracks were a mess of intersections and curves, the whole physics of it supported only by the wondrous thing called magic….. Holy fuck was that a dragon I just saw?!  
We finally arrived at the Longbottom vault after what seemed like an eternity. My whole being was asking me to hurl the contents of my stomach onto the stupid goblins’ face who had a smirk on his face after seeing my discomfort during the journey.  
Vault 517. The vault was pretty deep within the caves beneath Gringott, possibly signifying the fact that my family was quite ancient with respect to the ones above ours. One of the most ancient, in fact, if what I seemed to remember about some sacred twenty-eight families.  
As Breakjaw opened up the vault using his hand, I couldn’t help but admire the engravings on the vault door, worthy enough to stand on its own against sculpture I had seen in my previous life.   
All that paled in comparison to the contents of the vault though. Piles upon piles of gold were just strewn about, as if they were not worthy of attention, merely serving as the background. The various books and some artifacts that adorned the vault though, those were another matter. It was evident that proper care had been taken to keep every artifact and book in its proper possession.  
One ring, in particular, was calling out to me and I found myself instantly gravitating towards it. Just as my fingers were about to brush it though, a hand gripped my arm, freezing it in place. Turning towards the owner of said hand, I saw my grandmother looking at me with an impassive look on her face.  
“While it pleases me to see that the ring probably calls out to you, believe me when I say this, you are not ready to even be in the presence of any artifacts in this room alone. You would do well to remember that, grandson, for now, and future visits.”  
I gulped after hearing the serious tone in grandmother’s words as I quickly replied, “Of course, grandmother.”  
She continued looking at me for a few moments as if trying to gauge the sincerity in my words before turning around and picking up a box from one of the shelves.  
“What we came here for is this!”  
Saying that she turned to face me and opened a wooden box, revealing a wand inside.  
“This is your father’s wand. It is my wish that you use it. It would have made your father, seeing you carrying on his legacy.”  
Ah, the conundrum. One of the most probable causes for the utter lack of aptitude Neville showed during his early years in Hogwarts, only compounded by the fact that he didn’t have much pure talent, to begin with.  
Nonetheless, I accepted the wand, and almost immediately, I began feeling emotions that were completely alien to me. I was immediately assaulted with joy and pride which morphed into puzzlement which quickly reverted back to pride and a sense of acceptance.  
It took me a while to realise what was happening. The wand was emanating its emotions towards me. Emotions that seemed to be the remnant of its master, my father. I also figured out that it had recognised that I wasn’t its master’s son, not really. A different individual inhabiting the same vessel. Although, it had been quick to accept that.  
I looked back at my grandmother’s face, who was finally displaying some sort of emotion after entering this vault. I took a deep breath and said what the old Neville probably would never have the courage to even utter in his sleep.  
“I am sorry but I can’t this. This wand has accepted me of his own volition but it will never work for me as it worked for my father. Because I am not only my father. I am as much a part of my mother as I am a part of my father. I think my parents would be proud of me if I forged my legacy, instead of chasing after their own.”  
I could see that my words didn’t quite have the desired effect on my grandmother as I had hoped. She had gained a steely look on her face as if she was fully determined to dissuade me from my apparent foolishness. In the face of her coming opposition, I said the only thing I could.  
“Please, grandmother.”  
The steely look on her face was replaced by a sad frown before she eventually nodded with a sigh. She smiled when my face lit up with a smile, as I knew that I had already started some things, hopefully for the better.  
Pretty soon, it was time to leave the vault. My grandmother moved to take my father’s wand from me before I stopped her with my words.  
“I would like to keep it, grandmother. As a reminder, if nothing else. And to return it to its rightful owner someday.”  
Again, my grandmother looked at me with a pensive look on her face before she left the vault with a huff, expecting me to follow her.  
So much for small victories!

As forgive me for the lack of a better word, ‘magical’ Diagonal Alley was, I don’t think it would be the same place it would have been if the structure in front of me hadn’t been present. In my opinion, it was the crown jewel of the whole Alley despite being quite drab and grey compared to colourful alley.  
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.  
The final and most important step in becoming a true wizard. I couldn’t help but feel a tingle of anticipation run through my skin as I crossed the threshold of the shop. A tingling bell rang inside, signifying his arrival within the shop. His grandmother had chosen to forego this trip, choosing instead to find his uncle Algie and finishing the rest of the shopping.  
The tiny place was completely empty, save for a single spindly chair. As expected, there was no sign of Ollivander and I braced myself for inevitable fright.  
“Good afternoon.”, said a soft voice behind my ear, causing me to slightly jump despite all my mental preparations. Turning around, he saw an old with eyes as pale as the moon staring back at him unblinkingly. It unnerved him slightly.  
“Good afternoon”, I replied back, not knowing what to say in this situation.  
“Neville Longbottom. I had wondered if I would be seeing you quite soon. I had wondered if I would be seeing you at all, mind you, so this is quite a happy occurrence.”  
Again, I found myself unsure of how to reply and decided silence was the best option altogether.  
Thankfully, Ollivander skipped over the characteristics of my parents’ wands, unlike what he had done with Harry Potter. Or is it ‘will do’? After all, if I was correct, Harry was scheduled to come by tomorrow, accompanied by Hagrid, seeing as his birthday fell a day after me. Before I could continue on my train of thought though, Ollivander interrupted me.  
“So, which is your wand arm?”, he asked while pulling out a long tape measure from his pocket, with silver markings of some sort.  
“Right, I suppose. I am right-handed in my daily affairs.”, I replied.  
“Hold it out then.” He proceeded to take various measurements which had me wondering about the usefulness of it all.   
“Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Longbottom. I prefer to use unicorn hair, phoenix feathers, or dragon heartstrings, although you can find other wandmakers who like to work with other substances as cores. No two Ollivander wands are the same, of course, just as no two wizards are the same.”  
Suddenly, the tape was pulled out from underneath as my armpit before Ollivander delivered the famous one-liner.  
“Remember, Mr. Longbottom. It’s the wand that chooses the wizard.”  
I nodded at that, having already somewhat experienced that saying in action when I picked up my father’s wand.   
“Here, try this. Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on.”  
I gave the wand and felt the wand groan at my actions, before releasing what seemed like a cough of faint sparks.  
“No, no. Definitely not”, Ollivander said while snatching the wand away from me.  
“Give this a go. Maple and phoenix feather. Ten inches.”  
This wand gave no reaction at all and Ollivander seemed jubilant at that.  
“You need a very specific wand, don’t you?”  
After that, I tried what seemed to be a procession of wands as the pile of tried wands kept increasing in height, along with an increase in my dismay and Ollivander’s ecstasy.  
It was around half an hour later that Ollivander handed me the wand that was destined for me.  
“Willow. Dragon Heartstring. Eleven and a half inches. Flexible. Give it wave, will you?”  
As soon as I held the wand in my hand, the blood in my veins sung. I could feel joy and judgment and acceptance and wonderment, all at once. The emotions threatened to overwhelm me at one point before Ollivander’s voice broke me out of my stupor.  
“Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. You can actually feel the wand.”  
I looked up to see Ollivander staring at me with a joyous expression on his face.  
I couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean, sir?”  
“You have a high affinity for sensing magic and the intents and emotions surrounding it. I would advise you to try and hone this gift, for it is a blessing rarely found in the world.”  
I couldn’t help but stare at my wand after Ollivander’s words, feeling it emanating feelings of pride towards me. ignoring my state of mind, Ollivander said, “Dragon heartstrings lend themselves to temperamental wands, much like dragons themselves. They can change allegiance if they sense a more powerful wizard.”  
“Willow wood, on the other hand, choose those wizards who feel they have much to learn and experience still. My family has a saying, Mr. Longbottom. ‘He who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.’ Of course, they are also quite beautiful, as you can observe yourself.” Ollivander didn’t need to say that last statement. For me, it was the most beautiful thing I had laid my eyes on.  
“Willow wands choose those with the highest potential, Mr. Longbottom while enabling advanced, non-verbal magic.”  
“It wouldn’t be wrong to expect great things from you, I think.”  
I couldn’t help but gulp as Ollivander’s eyes hung near my face, his words delivered with a grave tone.  
‘At least, my wand isn’t the brother wand to some dark lord or demon or something like that.’  
Just then, I was broken out of my reverie when someone called out from outside the shop.  
“Neville!”  
Turning around, I saw my grandmother and uncle Algie waiting for me outside. I quickly dashed towards the door, having no desire to spend another moment with the creepy man.  
No sooner was I out of the door than my uncle greeted me with a toad in his palms.  
“I know you said no toad but I couldn’t help myself.”  
“Trevor!”, I said.  
My uncle replied with a puzzled look, “Pardon?”  
I let out a chuckle as I said, “His name. It’s Trevor.”  
I didn’t know if it was a sign of the futility of my actions. In the end, I let it go as I took the toad from my uncle and put him in my pocket.  
Some things were just meant to be!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: NOT MINE!

“Lumos!”  
I still had trouble believing the fact that I had just performed magic. Once again. For the umpteenth time. Even my wand had begun emanating emotions of boredom and exasperation. I could almost imagine it rolling its eyes at me.  
I didn’t care. The light that shone from my wand, brighter than all my previous attempts, had me just as much in awe as the first time I had tried that spell when all I had been capable of was a few flickers of light. Now the light was steady and bright enough to illuminate the whole room.  
“Master Neville must be sleeping. Mistress Augusta will be mad.”  
Turning to the source of the voice, I saw Poppy looking at me with those big eyes of hers exuding nervousness. I decided to take pity on the creature since it was her responsibility to ensure that I was sleeping and promptly put my wand at my bedside table.  
“Don’t worry, Poppy. I am going to sleep now.”  
Poppy nodded at me once before asking me, “Will Master Neville be visiting the greenhouse tomorrow?”  
I thought about that for a moment before answering. “Yes, Poppy. I think I will be spending some time in the greenhouse tomorrow. It’s been a long time, after all.”  
Poppy replied, “Very well, Master Neville. Poppy will inform mistress.”  
The greenhouse was a personal gift from Neville’s grandmother on Neville’s tenth birthday. All of Neville’s memories suggested that it was by far his favourite place in the estate. A place where he felt comfortable in his own skin, a place where he thrived. Plants were Neville’s escape from the admittedly cruel world of expectations and disappointments.  
I wondered if I had inherited Neville’s talent with plants. I couldn’t help but think that it would only be a fair trade for a lifetime without playing quidditch, due to my inherited motion sickness.  
I got off to a quick start the next morning, completing my morning activities within an hour of waking up. Thankfully, my grandmother didn’t question it, probably chalking it up to the fact that I was excited to be visiting the greenhouse.  
And to be honest I was. The last day had put Ollivander’s statement that I could sense magic into perspective. I could feel faint traces of magic from every magical object in the room. Although I couldn’t sense any emotion coming from them like I could do my wand.  
The only exception had been the family wards. And what an experience that had been. As soon as I had come in contact with the wards, I had felt as if I had been surrounded by a warm blanket, designed to protect me from the harsh winter. The wards had seemed almost jubilant as if they were happy and relieved that I was back in their confines.  
As I began walking towards the greenhouse, my grandmother’s voice stopped me, “Do be careful, dear. I know you are glad to be finally amongst your plants but don’t forget that the healer said that you have yet to recover your full range of motion. It would be a pity to take you back to St. Mungo’s so soon after coming back.”  
I nodded towards her before breaking into a gentle jog, too excited to actually use words.   
The first thought I had as soon as I entered the greenhouse was ‘Is that all?’  
The greenhouse was large in structure, probably designed keeping in mind its long term use. But there were absolutely no plants there to speak of. Don't get me wrong, I didn’t expect to see Devil’s Snare or Venomous Tentacula but come on!!!  
In fact, apart from a few rose bushes, the only magical plant that was there is the greenhouse was dittany. I had to admit that dittany was a good plant to have, considering its natural medicinal properties. Still, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the lack of truly magical plants in the greenhouse.  
I waddled my way towards the dittany anyway. More disappointed was headed my way as I couldn’t feel a thing from the dittany at all. The dittany was quite young as it was and thus more difficult to sense. The only thing I took from the whole trip was ‘More plants needed!’ and ‘Need to hone sensing skill!’  
The rest of my days spent at Longbottom manor were tiresome, made even more so after the fact that my wand was confiscated once my grandmother caught me performing magic.  
All I could do was read through my textbooks, which while interesting, didn’t offer much to relieve my boredom, seeing as they were basically introductory books of magic.  
The books were very informative though. Especially for a person like me who had just been dropped into this world without so much as a tutorial. ‘The Standard Book of Spells’ covered the most basic of spells, spells that required little knowledge and even lesser intent or concentration. I had fun trying out some of the spells in it. Before my wand was taken away from me, of course.  
‘One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi’ only served to make me gloomy when I was reminded that out of a thousand plants listed in the book, all I had in my greenhouse was potted dittany. I did read ‘Magical Drafts and Potion’ front to back about ten times, having no desire to draw Snape’s ire the way original Neville had done. Snape would have to do with bullying only Harry Potter, thank you very much!  
The one book that did spark my interest was ‘Magical Theory’. The whole book could be written down in one paragraph as I understood it.   
‘Magic is intent. Magic responds to your intent. Words and wand-waving serve to replace the purpose of true intent, seeing as most, if not all wizards are ultimately incapable of completely focusing on the intent of the spell. Even potions and alchemy and runes respond to the intent of its creator, but only to a certain degree.’  
That book had me wishing for a companion that I could discuss my ideas with. Alas, I was stuck with only my grandmother and Poppy for company, Uncle Algie’s visits having grown less frequent.  
By the time September 1 rolled around, I was almost ready to run away on my own to Diagon Alley, just to assure myself that human beings other than my grandmother existed in this world.

“Do you have everything, Neville?”  
“Yes, grandmother.” I couldn’t help the exasperation that laced my tone as I answered the question for what seemed like the hundredth time.  
“What about the Remembrall?”  
“No, I don’t have that. But that is because I don’t need it. I don’t want to give my peers ammunition to make fun of me the very first day, even before the sorting. I have Trevor for that.” It seemed like Trevor had been listening to our conversation as he gave out what seemed like an indignant croak.  
Augusta Longbottom sent her trademark stern look towards me which made me twitchy every time. The repressed memories that Neville associated with that look seemed to overwhelm me every time my grandmother looked at me like that.  
Finally, she decided to take pity on me as she let go of her stare and said, “Well, if you are so sure that you have packed everything, then we can proceed to the station. Although keep in mind, if I have to owl even a single thing within the first week of school, it will be most certainly be accompanied by a howler.”  
I let out an unconscious gulp at that, having no doubt that the woman would make good on her threat without any regard for my mental well being or my social standing.  
“Understood, grandmother.”  
My grandmother nodded to herself before saying, “Very well, then. If there is nothing else, please take my arm, dear.”  
I gingerly took her seemingly frail, mentally preparing myself for the inevitable unpleasant sensation accompanied by apparition. I had barely closed my eyes before I find myself feeling like I had been hurled down like a narrow pipe. It was over soon enough and I managed to remain standing, although my stomach began doing somersaults as soon as it was over.  
Opening my eyes, I found myself in front of King’s Cross station, rather than Platform Nine and Three Quarters itself, much to my surprise. I couldn’t help but voice out my question to grandmother, who had already begun to drag me through the crowd.  
“Why didn’t we apparate directly into the station, grandmother? Why go through the hassle of walking through such an overcrowded station?”  
My grandmother huffed in response to that. “Honestly, Neville. Sometimes, I wonder if you even pay attention when I am listing out basic facts to you.”  
I tried my best to look chagrined as she continued, “Some places are warded against apparition and portkeys, such as Hogwarts and Platform Nine and Three Quarters.”  
“Why the platform?”  
“Wouldn’t want dark wizards to pop directly into a station full of young children, would we? As is the issue with most places like this, the main concern is security and secrecy.”  
All this while my grandmother hadn’t stopped dragging me through the crowd, ably weaving through the conglomeration of people. I was left to collide and stumble my way through said crowd. Control over one’s balance becomes nigh impossible when you have no control over where you are going.  
After what seemed like an hour, we found ourselves before the famous barrier that served as the entryway to Platform Nine and Three quarters. It was quite literally the first step into magical education and I couldn’t wait to run through the wall, a rite of passage that all wizards through.  
That is if only my grandmother had let go of my arm. Before I could even contemplate how I would cross the barrier (lightly jogging seemed preferable), my grandmother had already dragged me towards it, thus taking all the excitement out of it.  
What happened while crossing the barrier was another matter altogether. a rush of emotions passed all over my skin, although I couldn’t believe wards were capable of the emotions I was feeling. It was as if the ward had winked at me, having shared a secret that was to exist between just the two of us. It was surreal, the number of emotions that it had conveyed in a fleeting moment.  
I couldn’t help but look back at the wall even after passing through it, wanting nothing more than to walk through it again, just to feel that familiar rush of emotions.  
“Do look ahead, grandson. In crowds and in life, if you will.” Trust my grandmother to break my reverie and bring back down to earth.  
“I will remember that grandmother.” Again, my irritation at her actions seeped through in my voice and she must have felt it too as she said, “Mind your snarky voice, Neville. I wouldn’t want people to think I had raised you poorly.”  
I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at that statement. Looking around, I saw hundreds of parents milling about, saying their final goodbyes to their children. And at that moment, I couldn’t help but feel that there was no sign of blood prejudice here. Muggleborns and purebloods, no matter who, all were just concerned with managing the excitement of their kids or assuaging their fears. What a wonderful…..  
“Neville, pay attention when I am talking to you. I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours that is more important than listening to me.” I could always trust my ever-reliable grandmother to come and derail my train of thought.  
“I am listening, grandmother.” All I received in response was an admonishing look that soon passed over, only to be replaced by a mixture of worry and joy.  
“Look at my grandson. Finally going to Hogwarts. I only wish….” My grandmother’s eyes started watering and for the first since coming into this world, I grew concerned.  
“It’s okay, grandmother.”  
“I know, I know. Anyways, it’s time to board the train.” My grandmother gave a watery chuckle to try to hide her rush of emotions. I could only nod awkwardly at her before lifting my luggage to the compartment before proceeding to board myself.  
“Neville!” I turned around to see my grandmother looking at me with her hands raised. “Remember, we are proud of you!”  
I nodded back at her with a smile before saying, “See you at Christmas!” just before the whistle of the train went off. Soon, the train started moving and I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness about leaving my grandmother behind.  
It soon passed though as excitement took over as I finally came to terms with the fact that it was really happening!  
I was finally off to Hogwarts!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: NOT MINE!

I was beginning to think that Harry Potter had the luck of the devil. If I remembered correctly, he had found an empty compartment almost immediately and had it almost to himself until, get this, another first-year student found him. Two first years with a compartment all to themselves.  
I, too, in all my naivete, had looked for an empty compartment at first. It was only after walking through half the length of the train did I realise one simple fact. There wasn’t an empty compartment for a first year. and every compartment had at least one individual who had basically reserved the whole compartment for their entire clique.  
I was beginning to think that I might have to find Harry Potter myself just to get a seat on this forsaken train. Who knows, I might even get a few chocolate frogs out of the deal. Thankfully, before I could contemplate the matter further, I was rescued from misery by an unlikely source. Or, should I say unlikely sources?  
“Look, George, we might have a firstie on our hands.”  
“Indeed, Fred! Aren’t you?”, he said that last part looking at me.  
Ah, the Weasley twin. Troublemakers extraordinaire. Their freckled faces topped by red hair had a look upon it that suggested that they conspiring to do some of their trademark mischief. And so, I had my first meeting with the Weasley family.  
“Ah, yes. I am a first year. Would you be kind enough to help me? I am having trouble finding a compartment.”  
“Say, George, should we help out this ickle firstie by sharing our compartment?”  
“I say we do, Fred, kind spirits that we are!”  
Although I was intimidated by the thought that I might have just made myself a target for their pranks for the entirety of this journey, I truly lacked any other options. Soon, I found myself in a compartment with the Weasley twins, who had already bamboozled with me with their twin speak and their best friend, Lee Jordan.  
Lee Jordan was the one to initiate the conversation when I had finally settled myself in the compartment.  
“So, what’s your name?”  
“Neville Longbottom.”  
“Fred, it looks like that we might be in the company of a distinguished heir. Well, Neville Longbottom, as you may have deduced, this is my brother, Gred Weasley and I am Forge Weasley. A pleasure to make your esteemed acquaintance.”  
I couldn’t help but play along, “Don’t you mean, Fred and George?”  
“Do we now? Say, Forge, have we confused our names by mistake?”  
“We might have, Gred. But Neville here knows the correct one, don’t you?”  
Lee butted in at this point, “Cut the firstie some slack, won’t you? It’s his first day after all!”  
Addressing me, he said, “I am Lee, by the way, Lee Jordan. Any idea what house you might be in?”  
I couldn’t help but release a sigh at that. “Not really, no. My parents were in Gryffindor though, so I wouldn’t mind being put in that house.”  
“Cool, we are in that house too. It’s the best house there is, although I am admittedly biased.”  
Fred, or was it George?, spoke up, “You can’t go wrong with the brave house of lions. Anyway, all houses are fine, I guess, except if you turn out to be a little snake.”  
That frayed my nerves a bit. I knew Neville originally had gone into Gryffindor but I didn’t know how much my transmigration might affect that. Having no idea if the sorting hat could find out that I was a completely different person altogether was another matter that didn’t help my paranoia. All I knew with absolute certainty was tonight would be a roller coaster of emotions.  
Hoping that my nervousness didn’t reflect on my face, I replied, “I don’t think so. I am neither cunning nor ambitious enough for Slytherin, in my opinion.”  
Before either of the twins could reply, Lee Jordan exclaimed excitedly, “So, Neville, want to see a tarantula?”  
I shrugged, “Sure, I guess.”  
As soon as he heard my reply, he reached into a box beside and took out what was the biggest spider I had seen in both my lives. He scared the living daylights out of me when he reached out with his hands and asked, “Want to hold it?”  
Not waiting for my response, he threw the spider towards me. In my already fearful state, I didn’t react on time and the tarantula fell on the floor and scuttled out of the compartment, leaving behind silence in its wake.  
In the midst of that silence, I exclaimed, “So, that happened!”  
Before anyone else could speak up, our compartment was invaded by a bushy-haired girl who looked around our compartment before her gaze landed on me.   
I pointed towards the lump in my pocket and said, “I already have my toad, thank you!”  
I received a puzzled look in response before she asked, “What?”  
“Nothing!”  
I awkwardly shifted my gaze away from her and brought out Trevor from my pocket and began to poke it.   
“Which year are you guys in? You don’t seem to be first years.”  
“Astute observation, my lady. We are third years, except Neville over here, with his toad. He is an ickle firstie, just like you.”  
“Hello, I am Hermione. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?” Without waiting for a response, she began asking questions at a rapid rate about the school curriculum. Her questions and the speed at which she was talking had us exchanging incredulous looks.  
“Is transfigurations as hard as they say? What do we cover in the first year of transfiguration? I imagine it’s pretty basic stuff. I hope we get started on non-living to living transfiguration. I have already learned all the course books by heart, of course. I even tried a few spells, although they were very basic, just small charms and the like.”  
“Heh, lady. I think you might have got the wrong Weasley. My brother, Percy, is the one you are looking for. You might find him in the prefect’s compartment.”  
The other twin continued, “Yes, red hair like us. Puffed up chest. Not as handsome. Might be busy shining his prefect badge.”  
Hermione huffed at their reply before turning her attention back to me.  
“Have you tried any spells?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Show me.”  
Not knowing how to refute her, I just took out my wand and spelled out, “Lumos”  
The compartment was illuminated in bright light before I muttered out, “Nox” and the light was gone as soon as it had started.  
“Oh, I have tried that spell too. Although, my light wasn’t as bright as yours. Do you know what you might be doing differently?”  
I just shrugged at her. “Not really, no.”  
She got up with a huff after that, “Pleasure meeting you all, I suppose. See you at school.”  
Before she left though, I spoke up, “Be careful in the corridors. There’s a tarantula about.”  
The rest of the compartment nodded in response to my statement. She gave us all an irritated look before leaving the compartment, shutting the door behind her. There was a silence in the compartment after Hermione left the compartment before Fred asked me, “So, Neville, play any quidditch?”  
“Not really. My body doesn’t cooperate with me enough. I don’t mind watching though. Do you guys play?”  
The twins were quick to reply in unison, “Of course we play.”  
“How could we not play the greatest sport in the world? We are beaters and I’d say we are pretty good since we play for our house team.”  
I whistled in appreciation, which had them preening a little. The rest of the ride passed in a similar vein, with talks of quidditch and pranks and chocolate frog card collections.  
I was so engrossed in the twins’ shenanigans that I didn’t even realise that we were approaching Hogsmeade. Fred spoke up when the train finally started slowing down, “You’d better change into your school robes. We are approaching Hogwarts.”  
I looked out of the window that darkness had indeed descended we quickly changed into our robes shortly before the train stopped at Hogwarts.  
The platform was as dark as the night was cold. Neville couldn’t help but shudder a little, due to the darkness or the cold, he couldn’t tell.  
A giant man was looming over everyone at the end of the platform. The lovable half-giant, Hagrid.  
“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?”  
Turning to look around at wherever Hagrid was staring, I got my first look at the infamous Harry Potter. The Boy-who-lied. The Chosen One.  
He was underwhelming! I knew that he was a malnourished, emotionally abused child but I still expected more. It might have been unreasonable for me to the extreme but it was hard to associate the meek, wide-eyed child in front of me to the vanquisher of Voldemort.  
Hagrid quickly led to the boats which didn’t look too secure for my liking. But I couldn’t bring myself to care as I had caught my sight of the magical castle. An inevitable “Wow!” escaped my lips as I took in the magnificence of the structure in front of me, the promise of a magical future waiting in the halls.  
I found myself with three other boys who I couldn’t recognise from the books or the movies. All of us just kept to ourselves, busy looking around, or making sure that the rickety boat didn’t capsize.  
I could barely make out Hagrid shouting, “Everyone in? Right then- FORWARD!”  
There was no conversation on the boat as the boats started moving on the lake. The lake remained perfectly still, as not a ripple could be found despite the boats gliding across the lake. I kept glancing towards the lake, hoping for a glimpse of the giant squid but to no avail.  
We entered a dark tunnel after ducking under some ivy at Hagrid’s alarm which led us directly to a harbor under the ground. No one could hold in their excitement as we disembarked. Even I, an old soul in a new body, found my feet moving slightly faster than normal pace.  
Hagrid knocked on the castle door three times and the doors swung open to reveal Minerva McGonagall, looking every bit as stern as the books portrayed her to be. Her eyes scanned through the gathered first years before saying, “Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”  
She swung the doors and I felt insignificant for the first time in my either lives. The entrance hall was so big that it could only have been a product of magic. The ancient walls were well by torches that never seemed to dim or waver and the ceiling couldn’t be made out.  
And all that mattered little to me. For at that moment, magic rushed out towards me, as it had never before. The only thing I could even compare it to was the rush I had gotten when I had held my wand for the first time. Even then, everything was different.  
Getting my wand had been an ethereal feeling. A feeling of finally finding the part of you that you weren’t even aware of but was missing all the same. Complete and utter faith that no matter how the tide turned, I could count on the complete loyalty of my wand.  
The feeling I got from the castle was one of insignificance. Unworthiness. Like I was staring at the ocean from a cliff, knowing that all I could do was look but never comprehend. Never comprehend its depth or the life it contained in it.  
The magic emanating from Hogwarts was uncaring and unyielding. As if it didn’t care that I walked through its halls and gathered knowledge from it. It would allow no more than that until it judged me worthy. I would never belong, not as long as it didn’t want me to. And wasn’t that a sobering feeling?!  
I looked around at my peers and couldn’t help but wonder if any of them hade felt the same thing as I had. I found myself disappointed pretty quickly. Everyone was excited and scared and anticipatory of what lay ahead with the sorting. But no one, not a single soul had learned that the castle had deemed them unworthy of its time as soon as they had entered. They were just another batch of students to it. Like the many who had come before them and the innumerable that would come after.  
I realised that I had missed McGonagall’s spiel about houses and Malfoy’s altercation with Potter while I was busy sorting my emotions. By the time I had gotten ahold of myself, everyone was waiting for McGonagall to come in and escort them to the sorting. Before that could happen, however, the famous ghosts of Hogwarts streamed through the walls in the direction of the first years, causing many of them to startle or even scream in fear.  
Finally, McGonagall arrived and escorted them to the Great Hall. The Great Hall was…well…magical. No amount of description could do it justice. The ceiling alone seemed to be a product of magic well beyond the scope of just seven years of studies.  
Excited whispers broke out among the rest of the populace as they finally took in a new batch of students entering these hallowed halls. Even I had to admit that it was slightly intimidating to be surveyed by what seemed like the entire hall. It seemed like a massive invasion of privacy to be sorted in front of such a large gathering. The sorting seemed personal, just like getting a wand. Although privacy might be a foreign concept in the magical world, what with legilimency and memory charms.  
The sorting hat finally made its appearance as McGonagall placed it onto a rickety stool. Everything was silent for a moment before a seam tore in the hat and it broke into a crescendo, singing about the various qualities that the members of different houses must possess while glorifying its own intelligence. Rather narcissistic, if I may so.  
And then, it was finally time for the dreaded sorting. Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment before she started calling out names.  
“Abbott, Hannah!”  
“HUFFLEPUFF!”, shouted the Hat.  
“Bones, Susan!”  
“HUFFLEPUFF!”  
And so it went until my name was called out. The only thing of note that had happened in regards to the main plot was that Hermione Granger had ended up in Gryffindor, although the hat did take its sweet time.  
“Longbottom, Neville!”  
I stepped forward, hoping against hope that my trepidation wasn’t showing. I had barely sat down on the stool before McGonagall dropped the hat on my head.  
The hat was silent for a few moments before it finally spoke in its characteristically loud voice in my head, “Oh, thank Merlin, you don’t know how relieved I am to meet you!”  
To say I was stumped would be an understatement, “What do you mean?”  
“Well, you are the first dimension traveller I have met, apart from myself, of course. Do you know how infuriating it is to be a mere object, dependent upon the whims of others?”  
Did I say I was stumped? Well, now I was shocked beyond comprehension.  
“You are a dimension traveller too?”  
“Glad to see you have caught on! Did you think you were unique? Never think that, ever! Yes, I am a dimension traveller too. Although I do like the term ‘World Walker’. It has a nice ring to it!”  
I took a moment to collect myself as I didn’t trust myself to speak. And then, I asked the first question that came to my mind.  
“No offence but why the fuck are you a hat?”  
The hat made a disgruntled noise at that before replying, “Well, I wasn’t one when I arrived in this dimension.”  
“Well then, why are you one now?”  
“You see, I was searching for a way to be immortal. And this was the best I could come up with.”  
“What, becoming a talking hat?” I couldn’t keep the exasperation out of my voice as I couldn’t comprehend why anyone would willingly subject themselves to such an existence.  
“Well, sorry to disappoint you, Mr. World Walker. But I didn’t come from a world where Harry Potter was fiction. So, no foreknowledge. I did the best I could!”  
“Cool! You just proved that other dimensions can be travelled to.”  
“I am not sure. By the way, you will have to research immortality too, you know. Don’t think you will survive a dimension jump without it. and no Horcruxes.”  
“Okay but you gotta help me.”  
“Oh, I will do what I can! Don’t think I can leave the Headmaster’s too often, can I? And, remember, when you do figure out a way to leave this place, take me with you.”  
I nodded mentally before saying, “Can you place me in a house now, Hat?”  
“Will do. Any preferences?”  
I had thought about it a lot. To accomplish my many goals, I needed to make sure that I didn’t have too much attention placed on me and for that, I needed a distraction. A boy-who-lived shaped distraction, to be precise.  
“Gryffindor!”, I replied emphatically.  
“If you are sure, then you better be GRYFFINDOR!”  
That last word he said loudly to announce my selection to the whole hall. A smattering of applause broke out before I made to take off the hat only for it to say some final words.  
“Remember, this may be a fictional world to you. But these are real people, with real lives. Change things for the better when you can. It would be the least you could do with all the opportunities you have in front of you with your foreknowledge.”  
“Make a difference, kid!”  
Before I could reply, the hat was off my head and I found McGonagall staring at me as I walked down the steps. It seemed as if I had taken up too much time to be sorted as the entire hall was shooting curious glances at me.  
I sat down at the Gryffindor before I looked back at my fellow dimension traveller as he sorted Draco Malfoy. Proof that I wasn’t alone. Proof of other dimensions.  
This changed things!

**Author's Note:**

> So, how was it? Any feedback would be appreciated as long as it is not mindless criticism. Any feedback would be welcome in the reviews or you could PM me too. If you are interested in proofreading for me please PM me. Don’t know when the next chapter is coming out as I will probably wait to read a few reviews so that I can make some changes to my structure and grammar to make this chapter and story better. Thanks for trying this out.


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